


Heirs of the Dragon

by lilgulie5



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Jonerys, Dream of Spring, F/M, Fluff, Hey they're Targaryens so maybe incest is implied..., Incest, Jon and Dany are really great parents, Jon and Dany are ruling together, Little Targlings, Targaryen Restoration, pregnancy fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilgulie5/pseuds/lilgulie5
Summary: A series of future fic one shots that look at Daenerys and Jon's life post season 8 and A Dream of Spring. Will be pretty fluffy and include their little Targlings as well as other characters from the show and books.





	1. Heirs of the Dragon-Timeline

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a compilation of my Jonerys future fic one shots. The more I wrote, the more I believed they should all be together somewhere. The fics are not in chronological order, but rather the order I originally posted them in: "Stallion of Stone", "The Stormborn", "Parting Gift", followed by newer fics. The very first chapter will be a timeline that I created for my future fics. To create this timeline I relied on dates from Westeros.org. More important timeline information regarding specific dates (or lack thereof) is included with that chapter.

**Heirs of the Dragon Timeline**

 

Note: All of the “months” in this timeline are, of course, not the months used in the timelines of Westeros. They are merely placeholders and used in general to calculate time. Years are based on Westeros.org. Seasons as they know them in Westeros are independent from months. For instance, just because it’s “January” doesn’t mean it will always be cold. If Westeros is in the middle of a 3 year long summer, it would be mild to warm in areas such as King’s Landing, hot in Dorne, and cooler at Winterfell. I included Dany's age, but not Jon's. Going off of what George R.R. Martin has said in a "So Spake Martin" Jon is about eight or nine months older than Dany.

 

**1/300 AC-** Dany is queen of Meereen.

 

**9/300 AC-** Dany arrives at Dragonstone

 

**11/300 AC-** Jon arrives at Dragonstone. Jon and Daenerys meet.

 

**4/301 AC-** Dany and Jon sail from Dragonstone to White Harbor. Conception of Prince Aemon.

 

**5/301 AC-** Dany turned 17.

 

**1/302 AC-** Prince Aemon is born at Winterfell. Night King is defeated. Winter Ends.

 

**3/302 AC-** Coronation in the ruined Red Keep. Restoration of Red Keep and King’s Landing begins.

 

**5/302 AC-** Dany turns 18.

 

**1/303 AC-** Aemon turns 1.

 

**4/303 AC-** Maegor’s Holdfast renovation complete. Royal family moves from Dragonstone to

 

**8/403 AC-** _Parting Gift_

 

**11/303 AC-** _The First Time I Saw You_

 

**1/304 AC-** Aemon turns 2.

 

**3/304 AC-** Princess Rhaenys is born in King’s Landing.

 

**7/306 AC-** _Stallions of Stone_

  
**8/306 AC-** _The Stormborn_

 

**9/306 AC-** Eddard born- _White Raven_ and _What’s In a Name_

  
**3/308 AC-** Princess Rhaenys turns four. _Dragonriders_.  
  
  
**8/308 AC-** Alysanne born.  
  
 **7/324 AC-** _Stolen Moments_


	2. Stallion of Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Long Night is over and Daenerys and Jon have set about rebuilding King's Landing when their son makes a new discovery. A bit fluffy and a bit angsty.

“Hurry, Mama! Hurry!”

“Slow down, Aemon,” Daenerys called to her eldest child as he dashed down the corridor, past the statues of the Targaryens of old. “Your sister and I can’t move as fast as you can.”

The queen watched as the prince stopped and turned around, his silver-blonde hair bouncing as he did so. His hair may have been given to him by his mother, but his grey eyes and patient smile he inherited from his father. Aemon had burst into the nursery with all of the exuberance of a four-year-old boy, his anxious Septa in town, and begged his mother to follow him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, setting two-year-old Rhaenys on her feet and pushing herself from the chair, a feat not easily accomplished as she was now in the seventh month of another pregnancy.

“To see the new statue!”

“The new statue?”

“Yes! Come on, Mama!” Aemon had said and practically tripped over his own feet as he ran out the door.

“What do you think, Rhae? Shall we follow your silly brother?”

“Yes!” the little girl exclaimed, her raven curls bobbing up and down and her violet eyes alight with excitement.

Aemon was quick, but not out of sight as Dany and Rhaenys struggled to keep up with him as they made their way through the Red Keep. Slowly but surely, the castle was returning to its former glory, the restoration going on its fourth year. The first year after the Great War ended, the Red Keep had been virtually uninhabitable after the major damage it sustained at the hands of Cersei Lannister. Dany and Jon had spent most of their days at Dragonstone, setting up a makeshift capital in order to deal with matters of state and traveled to King’s Landing when necessary. Once Maegor’s Holdfast had been completed, the Queen and King set up their permanent residence there and Rhaenys was the first of their children to be born there, her older brother being born at Winterfell at the end of the Long Night.

Dany watched as her son rounded a corner and made his way down a corridor lined with statues of their ancestors, for better and for worse. Dany and Jon had discussed removing statues of rulers like Maegor the Cruel, Aegon IV, and the Mad King, but decided to keep them, hoping the cold stone facade would prove to be a history lesson for their children and future Targaryens to come. Aemon, in particular, was coming to an age where he loved stories and would listen to tales of Starks and Targaryens alike. It was not unusual for Dany to find him either in the library with Maester Samwell or here in this very corridor with his Septa.

When she finally caught up with Aemon, he was standing in front of what was indeed a new statue that took Dany’s breath away. Standing tall at the end of the long line of Targaryens was a magnificent stallion, hewn from solid rock. The plaque at the base read “Rhaego Targaryen: The Stallion Who Mounts the World.”

“Mama, what does it say?” Aemon asked and his mother read the inscription aloud to him, her eyes swimming with tears.

“Who was Rhaego?”

For reasons unknown to her, Dany found herself unable to speak. She had talked at length with Jon about her time with the Dothraki. Her struggles, her triumphs, her mistakes, her losses. She laid them all bare before him and wept when she told him of the son she had never even held in her arms. He would have seen his eighth namesday by now.

“He was-,” Dany said, her voice cracking with emotion and unable to continue.

“He was your older brother,” a voice from behind her replied and she turned to find her husband walking up to join her and the children.

“Papa!” Rhaenys exclaimed and pulled free of Dany’s hand to run to her father who had been away for just over a week on progress in the North. Jon lifted his daughter into his arms and ruffled a hand over his son’s fair hair.

“I have an older brother?”

“You did. He died when he was just a baby,” Jon explained carefully. “Even younger than your sister. But your Mama’s Dothraki people called him the Stallion Who Mounts the World.”

Aemon looked from his father back to the statue, studying it closely.

“I wish I knew him,” the boy said thoughtfully.

“I wish so, too,” Dany said, finding her voice once more. “I’ve dreamt of him and he’s always very much like you.”

“When I grow up, I want to have my statue next to his. Can I?”

“You can,” Jon nodded, setting Rhaenys down. “Your Septa is waiting for you in the nursery with gifts from Aunt Sansa. Be a good brother and take your sister there. And don’t run.”

As Aemon took his sister’s small hand in his and led her back down the corridor towards the nursery, Dany took a step towards her husband and slid her arms around her husband’s waist.

“When did you get back?” she asked, reaching up to kiss him. “When did you do this?”

“To answer your first question, just now,” Jon replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “To answer your second question, the sculptors have been working on this for quite some time.”

“Jon, you have no idea what this means to me.”

“Yes, I do. He’s your son, Dany. He’s a Targaryen, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispered holding him close.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. One of his hands slid down to smooth over the curve of her belly. “Sansa also sent a new blanket for this little one, too and sends her love as well.”

“I wish I could have gone with you. It’s been too long since I’ve been North to see either of your sisters.”

“We’ve been busy trying to rebuild a country and you know Sansa enjoys coming down to the capital.”

“Will she come for the birth?” 

“Not sure,” Jon said, twisting a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Let’s retire for the afternoon. I missed my wife.”

“As tempting as that is, there is a council meeting soon. Won’t you join me?”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, but of course I will.”

“Thank you again, Jon. It’s not always easy for me to look back on that time or to think of him, but I can’t forget. It’s a part of me. There’s a way to look back, to remember that what happened and who I was then made me who I am today.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, kissing the side of her head. “How long do you think it will be before Aemon tries to climb up onto it?”

“Less than a day,” Dany snorted, with a playful roll of her eyes. “He’s probably running from his Septa now.”

“The dragon who mounts a stallion,” Jon mused. “What would the Dothraki call that?”

“ Gaezosi.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“Brothers.”


	3. The Stormborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys has gone to Dragonstone to await the birth of her third child, but a strong Summer storm makes for a sleepless night for her oldest son, Aemon. Just a cute bit of family fluff. Same timeline and characters as Stallion of Stone.

“Will that be the last one for tonight, your Grace?” Missandei asked as Daenerys set down her quill.

“Yes, I think that’s enough for one evening,” Dany replied, sitting back in her chair and running her hands over her belly. “I know you think I’m working too late as it is. We’re finished for the night.”

“I would never presume to tell you how late you should work, your Grace.”

“As my advisor you wouldn’t. As my friend you most certainly would. That’s why I value you.”

The two women shared a warm smile. They had been through much together; grief, heartache, sorrow, happiness, and joy.

“Will you need my assistance tonight?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here and read for a bit,” Dany said as lightning flashed across the Gullet. “It looks like a storm’s coming. I can smell it in the air.”

“Don’t stay up too late, Daenerys.”

“Now you sound like me when I’m scolding Aemon.”

“Well, he does get his stubbornness from his mother.”

“I promise I will sleep. That is, as long as this one will let me,” Dany said, pointing to her stomach. “I think their foot is currently wedged beneath my ribs. At least it feels that way.”

“I’ll have them send in some tea before I retire tonight. The kind that helps you relax.”

“Thank you, Missandei. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

After her friend and most trusted advisor left, Daenerys stood from her writing table and stretched out her sore back. Just because she had come to Dragonstone for her eventual confinement did not mean she left her duties behind her in KIng’s Landing. Every day new missives, inquiries, and petitions arrived and every evening after she put Rhaenys and Aemon to bed she would go over everything with Missandei’s help. In less than a week Jon would be joining her from his trip to the Iron Islands. Then, barring anything urgent, their family would remain there for the next month until the babe was born.

She hated when they were apart, but short and long absences alike were part of ruling a vast kingdom that was still rebuilding from years of war and neglect. She was glad to have someone to share the heavy burden of the crown. In many ways she had been naive, despite Tyrion’s warning. Not everyone had welcomed the restoration of her dynasty, not everything was able to be solved with Valyrian steel and dragonfire. Four years after their coronation she was still learning that.

Dany stood at the open balcony in the Chamber of the Painted Table, the Map Room, as Aemon and Rhaenys called it, and closed her eyes as the warm salt air blew across her face. Far below her, fierce waves were pummelling the socks, warning of the storm brewing across the open water. Lightning flashed again, so bright she could see its light through her closed lids and she counted the seconds that passed until the low rumble of thunder echoed across the bay. _It’s going to be a big one tonight,_ she thought with a smile. In just ten days she would celebrate her namesday, so a summer storm seemed more than appropriate.

_Summer_ , Dany mused. Another reason she was glad to be on Dragonstone. The heat of King’s Landing was different from the warmth of Essos. There, it was hot. In King’s Landing it was sweltering, nearly oppressive at times and the large city seemed to stink with the heat. Dragonstone provided an escape from that as well. Here the breezes blew into the castle from the water in a way that did not happen in King’s Landing. Here was the perfect place to welcome her summer child into the world.

Soon enough the rain began to fall and Dany retreated further into the Map Room, running her fingers across the great carved and painted map of her ancestor, Aegon Targaryen, on her way to the bookshelf. She selected a tome before settling back into her chair. The book was a familiar one, given to her as a wedding present by Ser Jorah. In all the years that had passed, she still never tired of the stories within. No sooner had she opened the book than a servant begged entrance to the chamber, carrying the tea Missandei had promised to request for her. She thanked them, took a sip of the steaming drink and returned to her reading, finally deciding on the early days of House Targaryen when Jaehaerys the Conciliator became king after the reign of Maegor the Cruel, and ruled with his wife, the good Queen Alyssane.

Dany propped her elbow on the table and cradled her head in her hand as she read. Before long her eyelids began to grow heavy, only to snap open again with each crack of thunder. Her head had dipped down again when she heard the faint sound of steel scraping across the stone floor.

“Mama?” a small voice said just before a clap of thunder so loud it shook the cup on her table echoed through the Map Room and jolted her awake. She blinked a few times to find her son standing before her, a small sword in his hand and a scared expression on his face.

“Aemon? What are you doing?” she asked, holding her hand out to beckon him towards her.

“The storm woke me up and...and…” His bottom lip quivered as he walked towards his mother and Dany could tell he was quite possibly on the verge of tears. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

“And you were afraid?”

“No!” Aemon said quickly. “I’m not afraid! I came to protect _you_.”

“Ahhhhh,” Dany replied with a knowing smile. “That was very good of you. It’s very late, Aem.”

“I know, but after I woke up I could sleep anymore.”

“And your sister didn’t wake up?”

“Rhae can sleep through anything.”

_Her father’s daughter_ , Dany thought with a wry smile.

“I was just about to retire for the night. Would you escort me to my chambers?”

“Yes, Mama!” Aemon said excitedly but Dany noticed him jump when the next flash of lightning lit up the room.

Daenerys took one last sip of her tea and shifted herself out of her chair. Her body felt heavy with fatigue and she could not wait to sink into her soft bed and let sleep wash over her. First, however, there was a little prince too proud to say he was afraid of the thunder who needed his mother. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it three times and waited for his little hand to squeeze back four times. It was a little code between the two of them, a secret message. Three squeezes meant _I love you_ . Four squeezes in return meant _I love you, too_.

“Lead the way, Aemon,” Dany said and her son led her from the Map Room to her bedchamber.

“You have a visitor tonight, your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked from his post at the door to Daenerys’s chamber.

“Indeed,” his queen replied. “It appears I have an extra Queensguard tonight.”

Aemon walked into his mother’s bedchamber and laid his sword against a chair. He climbed up onto the tall bed and watched Dany expectantly.

“Stay right there and I’ll be back,” she instructed, moving behind the changing screen in the far corner of her room to shrug out of her gown and into a deep greyish blue nightgown.

The bedroom was dark, save for a few sputtering candles and the occasional flash of lightning. Aemon looked so small in the middle of the huge bed and when she climbed on he immediately settled himself beside her resting his head on her chest and a hand on her belly. She wrapped an arm around him and brought him in close.

“That’s much better,” she said, nuzzling his soft, silver-blonde hair. It was long now and messy about his face. He typically wore it half-up. _Like Father wears it,_ he often said with pride. Now it was loose and wild from sleep.

“Better,” he echoed his mother and glanced up at her. “Story?”

Daenerys nodded and hummed for a moment before she began her tale.

“Do you know why they call me _Stormborn_?” she asked.

“Because you were born during one of the worst storms.”

“That’s right. You were born during a terrible storm as well.”

“I was?”

“Yes, but you were born during a great Winter storm. One of the worst, even the Northerners agree. I was staying at Winterfell and your father was at Castle Black preparing to seek out the Night King and defeat him. That’s a very long way from Winterfell, but he promised me that he would be there when you were born.”

“Did he keep his promise?” Aemon asked, already knowing the answer for he had heard the story before, but it was one of his favorites.  

“He did. He must have known it was close to the time for you to be born. Now, how he and Rhegal made it through the storm I will _never_ know, but he was there at Winterfell when you were placed into my arms, all red faced and screaming and wailing. That very night, the storm died down and from that night on there has never been such a storm like that anywhere in Westeros. Some say that the night you were born was the beginning of the end of the Long Night.”

Aemon was quietly for a very long time and Dany thought he had fallen asleep, knowing that he was finally safe from the storm within his mother’s embrace.

“Mama?” his little voice asked in the dimly lit room.

“Yes, Aem?”

“I told a lie.”

“You did?”

Aemon nodded against her breast and heaved a sigh. “I was afraid of the storm.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because if I want to be brave, I can’t be afraid.”

“Oh my love,” Dany said, shifting her son so that he was sitting up and facing her. “People aren’t brave because they’re not afraid. People are brave because they carry on despite their fear. I was told that your grandfather Ned used to say that the only time a man can be brave is when he’s afraid.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Are you still afraid now?”

“No. Because you’re here, Mama.”

“No, Aemon. You’re not unafraid just because I’m here. You’re unafraid because we’re here together.”

“Do I have to go back to my bed now?”

“Not tonight, Aemon,” Dany said, hugging him and holding his close again. “Stay right here with me.”


	4. Parting Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is about to depart King's Landing on a diplomatic mission and Daenerys has a gift for him before he leaves.

She watched as he climbed from the bed, naked as the day he was born and admired his form. Part of her wanted nothing more than to pull him back into their bed, but she knew they had more important things to do this morning. _Always duty first,_ she thought as her husband washed his face and began to dress. Soon enough he would leave for Lannisport on a diplomatic mission to visit the newly appointed Warden of the West, Jaime Lannister. She was reluctant to send him away. They had only recently settled into the newly remodeled Maegor’s Holdfast in the Red Keep. A sense of normalcy had finally descended onto their family and now all of that was being disrupted again.

 It had been a trying year and a half in their makeshift capital at Dragonstone. Truth be told they had spent more of it apart than Daenerys would have liked or expected, but it was necessary. Truly, she was grateful to have Jon at her side. He could travel to the far reaches of the realm while she worked with Tyrion to restore some semblance of a reasonable government to Westeros. Many times she spent long days in King’s Landing, overseeing plans for the rebuilding of the capital and the Red Keep. It was a struggle to be away from her young son for so long. Aemon would be two before the year was over and there were moments when she would rather spend an entire day with him than with politicians and courtiers.

 “I don’t want you to leave,” Daenerys said, sitting up in bed and pulling the silk sheets up to cover herself.

 “It was your idea that I go to Lannisport to begin with,” Jon replied, buttoning up his breeches and returning to her bedside.

 “What was I thinking?”

 “I blame Tyrion. He’s trying to pass on more of his, what was it...ancient wisdom?”

 “Ah yes,” Dany laughed. “What’s the saying? The king shits and the hand wipes? Definitely his fault.”

 “I’ll only be gone for as long as I need to be.”

 “That’s too long already.”

 “What’s this?” Jon asked. He sat down beside her and rested his hand on her hip, kneading it gently. “You’re not always like this when I leave. Something’s wrong.”

 “Not wrong…” she replied carefully.

  _He knows me too well,_ Dany thought. _Sometimes better than I know myself._ Jon had that way about him. Even from the time they first met, he could see through the clutter of names and titles and see Dany for who she really was. It was a change to be trusted, admired, and eventually loved for her deeds, for her quirks, even for her shortcomings rather than pandered to by potential lovers, suitors, and beaurecrats looking to benefit from her power.

 Loving Jon Snow was surprisingly easy. So easy that it scared her. There was no duplicity in him. No hidden agenda. He was straight forward, blunt, honest, but also humble and loyal to a fault. When he arrived at Dragonstone everyone thought he was Ned Stark’s bastard son, but she did not care about that then and it mattered even less now. He arrived as the King in the North, his actions proved him to be worthy of that title and so why would she treat him as anything less?

 If prophecies were to be believed, perhaps they were fated long ago to find one another. Dany believed in destiny. She believed she was destined to unite and rule the Seven Kingdoms and she believed that even if they were on the other ends of the world she would have found Jon Snow. He tempered her more impulsive urges and she helped him see that he was not alone in the world. No battle, physical or emotional, needed to be fought alone. The Targaryen dynasty had been restored, but there was still much to do to repair the damage it had sustained over the decades. They approached all matters as equals. They were crowned together, they ruled _together_.

 “Not wrong,” Jon conceded, holding her gaze. “But there _is_ something isn’t there?”

 “I hate it when you do that.”

 “Do what?”

 “Look at me as if you’re trying to read my mind.”

 “Well what am I supposed to do when you won’t tell me exactly what is going on?”

 His nostrils flared and his lips pursed a bit. He was getting a little more agitated than Dany had originally intended for him to be. When he looked at her like that it was easy to forget all of the weight that was placed upon their shoulders.

 "When you get back we’re going to have to start thinking of names,” Dany said, reaching for his free hand and playing with his fingers.

 “Names?” Jon asked almost incredulously.  

 “Names,” she said more pointedly and nodded. “Maybe even girl names this time around.”

 “Oh!” her husband gasped and a light danced in his eyes. “Names! You’re absolutely certain?”

 “I am. The maester confirmed it the other day. I was looking for the right time to tell you.”

 “Thank the gods you told me before I left. This is the best news!” Jon exclaimed and pulled Dany into his arms, kissing her hair, her shoulder, her neck and her lips. “You said girls’ names. Do you know it will be a girl?”

 “No,” Daenerys laughed. “It’s just a hope. Would a princess make my king happy?”

 “Either would make me happy, but a little girl running through the Red Keep who looks like her mother? I think I would like that.”

 “Aemon already has my hair. I want a daughter with your dark curls.”

 “Alright, my hair, but your eyes.”

 “That’s a fair compromise.”

 Jon bent his head and kissed Daenerys, long and sweet, causing her to let out a reluctant moan when he pulled away.

 “Shall we keep this news a secret until I return or shall we send out ravens with the announcement?”

 “Let’s send them out now. I won’t have people thinking I’ve let myself go while you’re away.”

 “I’ll go and tell the maesters now. Join me for breakfast before I leave?”

 “Of course.  I’ll have Missandei bring Aemon and we’ll meet you in the hall.”

 “Perfect,” he kissed her quickly for good measure and threw on a shirt and surcoat as he headed to embark on his task at hand. “You’re a wise woman, my Queen. Sending me off with the best parting gift that will make me fly back here as soon as possible.”

 “I don’t know if I’m wise or selfish,” Daenerys quipped. “Maybe I just want you all to myself.”

 “Either works for me, Dany,” Jon smiled and closed the large red door to their bedchamber behind him.


	5. The First Time I Saw Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys on their lives three years after meeting one another for the first time.

“There you are,” Jon said, walking into Aemon’s bedchamber. His nearly two-year-old son was fast asleep against his mother’s chest.

“Looking for me?” Daenerys asked, her voice hushed as she ran her fingers through her son’s silver-blonde curls and rocked gently in her chair.

Aemon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was just shy of his second birthday and by all accounts very close to his mother. While it was clear the child loved his father dearly he and Dany shared a special bond. She was especially protective of him. How could she not be when he was the living embodiment of her greatest dream, one which she believed for so long would never become a reality. His birth had been a miracle, of that she was sure, and no one could have told her otherwise. He was born at Winterfell and it was said that the very night of his birth was the beginning of the thaw and the end of the second Long Night. The perfect combination of Houses Targaryen and Stark, his shock of silver hair was paired with his father’s steel-grey eyes and he seemed thoughtful, pensive, even for a child of such a young age. It was a trait Dany was sure he inherited from his father.

“It’s just late and you weren’t in our rooms.”

“He fell asleep on me about an hour ago.”

“He does that on purpose, you know,” Jon pointed out, motioning to Aemon.

“I know,” Dany said. She kissed the top of his head. “And I’m going to let him because he won’t be this little for long and he won’t have me to himself for long either.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Have you forgotten what today is?”

“Of course not. How could I forget the day an arrogant northerner walked into my throne room?”

“Arrogant? I prefer _self assured_.”

Dany laughed and shook her head as she recalled the day she first met her husband three years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was risky to invite the Northerners to bend the knee and she had no real reason to put trust in Melissandre, but Tyrion vouched for him and that was good enough for her. She was glad it was something her hand had been right about.

“Let’s put him to bed,” Jon motioned their son. “So that _we_ can go to bed.”

XXXXX

“Why is it called that?” Dany wondered aloud, cradling Jon’s head to her breast as they lie tangled in the bed linen.

“Called what?”

“The lord’s kiss.”

“I don’t know,” Jon laughed. “I didn’t make it up. She called it that. Maybe it’s something Wildling’s say. Ask Tormund next time you talk to him.”

There was no mistaking who the _she_ was that Jon mentioned. Gone were the days when the queen would flinch at the reference to his former lover. Ygritte was dead and Dany would not let herself be haunted by the Wildling Jon had once loved. Now, he could mention her name and she could mention Drogo freely. They were both part of the fabric of their pasts, inexorably woven together however right or wrong it had been at the time. Hindsight allowed both of them a clearer view of the past. Though Drogo and Ygritte occasionally slipped into conversation no one ever mentioned Daario Narahis much.

“No thank you. I suppose you just perfected it then.”

“How would you know if I had, hmmm?” He propped himself up on his elbow and raised an eyebrow in question. “Thought you said I was the first to do that to you.”

“Oh you were. Without question, but you never do anything halfway, my love. And I can’t imagine anyone doing it better.”

“Well, you’ve got many _talents_ as well. We make a good pair.”

“I certainly think so.”

“You’re showing more,” Jon murmured, pressing his lips against the taut curve of Dany’s stomach.

“I hear that happens as the pregnancy wears on,” she quipped, shivering at the feel of his beard across her skin.

“You know what I mean. It seems sooner than with Aemon.”

“The midwife says that happens sometimes with the second child. And it’s not as if I had all of the delicious food I have here at my beck and call up at Winterfell. Your daughter has a sweet tooth.”

“Still think it’s a girl?”

Dany was not sure what fueled her suspicion that the baby she carried was a girl. Missandei called it her motherly intuition, but Dany simply _felt_ different. Her pregnancy with Aemon had been surreal, plagued by war, fear, and uncertainties. Young mothers normally concerned themselves with preparing the child’s room, Dany had prepared for war, had wondered if she would even live to see her son born. Then there were the constant thoughts that it would all end the same way it had before. That she would lose him like she lost Rhaego.

Now, secure in her reign, her marriage, and knowing she could bear a living, healthy child, Dany could enjoy her pregnancy more. She let Jon spoil her and allowed herself the luxury of being pampered.

“Mmm,” Dany agreed. “For now anyway.”

“Do you feel different?”

“Different? I suppose so. I was sicker this time.”

“Never thought I’d have one child, let alone two.”

“I’m so very glad you walked into my throne room, my King. What did you think the first time you saw me.”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Tell me again. Please?”

Jon sighed and kissed his way back up to Dany’s lips. “You were prettier than I expected. Younger than I expected and more stubborn, too. You seemed larger than life up on that throne and then you walked towards me and I noticed…”

“Noticed what?”

“You were rather short. After Missandei listed all of your titles I wondered how this relatively small young woman could have accomplished so much. And then you started talking and I knew. You had conviction. You _have_ it, I mean. That hasn’t gone away.”

“I watched you arrive on the beach, you know. From the Map Room I could see your ship rowing in. To be fair, you were just slightly shorter than I would have expected as well. _The King in the North_ , whatever that meant. The son of a man I thought was the enemy. You both captivated and infuriated me. If Varys hadn’t have come in to tell me of the Greyjoy defeat I might have sent you away then and there. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed.”

“Fortunately,” Jon nodded in agreement and kissed her again, deeper and more slowly this time. “I had some dreams about you on Dragonstone, you know.”

“What kind of dream?”

“Dreams of the things I wanted to do to you, where I wanted to do them…”

“Jon Snow,” Dany whispered against his ear, playfully tugging on his lobe.”When did those start?”

“Probably just before the cave. When you said you’d fight for the North if I bent the knee. I damn near did it, too. Nearly kissed you right then and there.”

“I wish you would have. There were many lonely nights that I thought of you.”

“Took me awhile to work up the courage, honestly. I’d fought Wildlings and Walkers but it took everything I had to knock on your cabin door that night.”

“The next morning I was so worried you’d just want to forget about it, that it wouldn’t have meant as much to you as it did to me. I should’ve known better. You were seared into my very soul that night, Jon.”

“And you into mine, Dany,” Jon agreed reverently. “When the whole world was falling apart, you gave me life, you gave me hope.”

A tear slipped down Dany’s cheek and Jon smiled and brushed it away with the pad of his thumb.

“No tears now, love.”

“Happy tears, I promise. The happiest. I can’t help it.”

“Well in that case, I suppose it’s alright. It’s getting late and the Dornish envoy should be arriving tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired yet,” Dany lied.

“You always say that. You’re as bad as Aemon is. Won’t go to sleep even when you’re tired.”

Despite her protest Daenerys tucked her head under Jon’s chin and wrapped her arms around his waist. Sleep was no longer as stranger as it had been when they had first met one another. How many sleepless nights had Dany spent worrying about Jon, and _everything._ The promise that she would be able to wake up next to him in the morning and for many mornings to come helped sleep easily find her eyes and she drifted off into a peaceful, undisturbed slumber.


	6. The White Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dany and Jon await the birth of their third child while on Dragonstone they receive the first White Raven since the end of Winter. Takes place after chapter 3, The Stormborn, in the ninth month of 306AC.

Daenerys blinked open her eyes and shivered in annoyance. It felt like she had finally just fallen asleep after tossing and turning for hour after uncomfortable hour. Sunlight was already seeping through the curtains, but she hoped she could still steal at least another hour of much needed rest. Both Sam and the midwife had confirmed that her third child would be born within the next two weeks, but Dany wished the child was already there. 

“Jon,” she called in a hushed tone that sounded more like a whine than she intended. “Fetch another blanket, I’m cold.” 

No answer came from her husband’s side of the bed and when she glanced over her shoulder she found the bed empty. 

“Jon?” she called once again, thinking he might be somewhere in the chamber. When she still did not hear him reply she reached over and pulled his side of the covers over her body and fell back to sleep. 

XXXXX

“Do you know how long you’ll remain here on Dragonstone, Your grace?” Tyrion asked as Dany paced back and forth while reading over the crown expenditures he had brought with him from King’s Landing. 

“Most likely another month,” she replied, setting the document on a stack of others. She poured a glass of wine and offered it to her hand. “Why? Is there a reason for me to come back sooner?” 

“Merely curiosity. The people will be anxious to greet their knew prince or princess.” 

“As am I. Not much longer now, the-” 

“Mama! Did you see?” Aemon burst into the room, a ball of energy. 

“Aem, what did I tell you?” Jon said, close on his heels. 

“That I should knock first?” 

“And did you?” 

The four-year-old began to nod before reluctantly dropping his head and shaking it. 

“No, but she’s my Mama!” 

“And I’m everyone’s queen,” Dany finished gently. “Say hello to Lord Tyrion, my love and then tell me what has you so excited.”   
Try as she might, Dany found it difficult to be upset with her son. She and Jon both believed in teaching him manners and how to be polite, but as weary as she was of late, the sight of her first-born did wonders to warm her heart. It was impossible to stay angry with him for long. Perhaps she spoiled him more than she should, but she had every reason to. There had been a time when she thought having a child to spoil was only a distant dream. Now that it was a reality- soon to be three times over- she found herself to be the more indulgent parent. Their children were only little for so long and she was wont to deny them the childhood that had been denied to her. 

“Good afternoon, Lord Tyrion,” Aemon said dutifully before turning his attention back to his mother. Did you see it?” 

“See what?” 

“The white raven!” 

“White raven…” 

“It arrived from the Citadel today,” Jon confirmed, decidedly less excited than his son. 

“”Then Autumn is here,” Dany sighed. 

“Which can only mean,” Tyrion began. 

“Yes, Winter is coming.” 

“You Starks are always right eventually.” 

“Aemon, will you bring your little sister here? And when you get back we three will play something together.” Dany waited for her son to leave before she turned to regard her husband and her hand. “We knew Summer couldn’t last forever, yes?” 

“Of course,” Tyrion replied. “It lasted nearly five years. There’s not telling how long Autumn will last either.” 

“I don’t want people to panic.” 

“They won’t,” Jon assured her. 

“You don’t know that. The last time we saw Winter is still fresh in everyone’s mind, especially mine. Parents lost their children to that Winter and to the dead.” 

“That won’t happen this time. The White Walkers are gone.” 

“There’s more to worry about in Winter than White Walkers now. Last Winter was short compared to some Westeros have seen. I was born during a Winter. Some people suffer from famine in times of Winter, Snow.” 

Dany knew that Tyrion was right. When the Night King was defeated, Winter did not end in the blink of an eye. It ebbed away slowly like a receding wave from a shoreline. Days grew longer and warmer, nights were shorter. Gradually, the ground began to thaw, first in the south and then lastly in the North. Dorne lost many of its olive and lemon orchards. They were only now beginning to reap a good harvest and Dany hoped the winter would be brief and mild in the southron most areas of Westeros. 

“But we’ve been preparing for this, correct?” Dany asked. 

“Of course, Your grace. But War takes a hard toll on farming. Still, provisions have been set aside. We also might get lucky and have a long Autumn with bountiful harvests.” 

“Better not to rely on that, just to be safe. We can trade with Meereen if need be as well.” 

“Very wise.” 

“When you come next week bring me a report on the grainaries. I want to look over the numbers.” 

“Will that be all, Your grace?” 

“See if you can have the goldcloaks gather some public opinion from around King’s Landing. If anything else comes up I’ll send word.” 

Tyrion finished his cup, collected his documents into his leather satchel and bowed, leaving Dany hugging herself and casting a sideways glance at her husband. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Jon.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you think I’m working too hard.” 

“What did Sam say?” Jon asked. 

“He didn’t forbid me from working.” 

“Not what I asked. What did he say?” 

“I’ll need to know how much grain we have stored up around Westeros. Shall we send your sisters ravens as well? One to Winterfell and one to Storm’s End?” 

“Daenerys,” Jon said firmly, turning her by the shoulder to face him. “I’m asking you what Sam said.” 

“That it could be any day now.” 

“Right. Any day now. Could be today. Could be tomorrow.” 

“It’s not,” Dany scroffed with a wave of her hand. “I’d know if the baby was coming today.”

“Why is it too much to ask that you take it easy?”

“It’s not too much to ask but-” 

“Everything before the word but is horseshit.” 

“Do you kiss your queen with that mouth?” 

“Aye,” Jon smiled. “And I haven’t heard her complain much about it.”

“I promise you that I will lie down to rest when Rhaenys and Aemon do.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“You won’t work too much until after the babe is here.” 

“Fine. Maybe you’ll have to meet with Tyrion next week if I’ve had the baby before he gets here.” 

“That’s unkind.” 

“You like Tyrion,” Dany pointed out. 

“Yes but-” 

“And you’ve been on diplomatic missions for me.” 

“I know, but…” 

“But?” Dany waited expectantly. “I thought you just said everything before the word but is horseshit.” 

“You’ve more patience for him than I do sometimes. I’d rather just hear the condensed versions of his reports from you. He can be...long winded at times. Especially when he’s been in the wine.” 

“I’m not commanding you to do this as your queen. I’m asking you to do this as your wife.” 

“You know I’ll do it either way,” Jon replied, brushing his knuckles over her belly. “But with a little bit of luck, the little one will arrive after Tyrion’s next visit.” 

XXXXX

“How is it that luck always seems to be on your side, Jon Snow?” an exhausted Dany asked as she leaned against him, their newborn son quietly nursing in her arms. He had come into the world with less fuss and less difficulty than his older brother. His grey eyes were large and wondering from the first moment Dany gazed and him and he cried so little that at first she had been afraid something was wrong, though now it seemed to just be his nature. 

“Must have some gods on my side.” 

“He came less than twelve hours after my meeting with Tyrion.” 

“Aye,” Jon nodded, his finger gliding over the baby’s soft dark hair. 

Whereas his siblings were a mix of both parents, the newest Targaryen prince already looked like a Stark. Perhaps one day, when he was older, he would be fostered at Winterfell, but Jon did not dare bring that up now. He had made the mistake of mentioning it to Dany once before when Aemon was still just a babe and she had refused to discuss the matter, had refused to even entertain the thought of being apart from her children for months or even years at a time. He knew it was not a tradition she had been familiar with and knew that growing up away from all family except her half-mad brother had made Dany especially hesitant to think about sending their children away. 

“He needs a name,” Dany said, adjusting her shift when the child had finished nursing. “But I think only one will suit him.” 

“Oh?” 

“He looks like you. He came just after we found out Autumn was here and that Winter is not far behind. We didn’t have a name chosen ahead of time. It was chosen for us. You know what to name our son, Jon.” 

“Welcome to the world, Eddard. We’ll call you Ned for short. A short name in honor of a great man.”


	7. What's In a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Jonerys Week Summer 2018 Prompt "Training of Targlings" and "Slice of Life". 
> 
> Aemon asks Jon where his name came from after his little brother Ned is born.

“Papa, am I named for Aemon the Dragonknight?” Jon’s oldest son asked him as he tucked the boy into bed. 

It had been a long exhausting day, but a joyful one as Daenerys had brought his second son, Eddard into the world. Both mother and child were asleep, at least for the time being, and the duty of putting the two eldest Targaryen children to bed fell solely to Jon. Most nights, Dany and Jon would see their children to bed together. It was a simple, but something the queen insisted on. She might be the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, but she always made time for her family first and foremost. It was something Jon loved her even more for. Neither one of them had grown up ever feeling like they truly belonged to a family. Now that they had their hearts desires they took nothing for granted. 

“Well,” Jon replied, sitting on Aemon’s bed. “Not exactly.” 

He could see why his son would wonder as much. Even growing up, Jon had idolized their ancestor known as the Dragonknight. He was a paragon of knightly virtue. He was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard through the reign of four monarchs, including his older brother Aegon the Unworthy. Jon often wondered if Aemon would have made a better king that Aegon had. Despite their difference, Aemon had died defending his brother. It was said that their sister, Naerys, sorely grieved her brother and died in childbirth the following year. No, Jon’s son had not been named for the valiant knight of old. 

“You were named for one of the greatest men I’ve ever known,” Jon began. “He was the older brother of Aegon the Unlikely. His name was Aemon Targaryen and  _ he _ was named for the Dragonknight, though he himself never wielded a sword. He wielded something equally as powerful though, a razor sharp mind.” 

“Did you know him?” little Aemon asked. 

“Aye,” his father nodded. “He was the Maester of Castle Black.” 

“A maester?” 

“Yes, I met him when I joined the watch, although I did not know at the time that we were related at the time. Actually, I never knew we were related until after he died.” 

“What was he like?” 

“The wisest person I’ve ever met.”

“Wiser than Maester Sam?” 

“Well...don’t tell Maester Sam, but yes. But remember, Maester Aemon was much older than Maester Sam is now. I know that when Sam is as old as Aemon was he’ll be just as wise.” 

“If Maester Aemon was Aegon’s older brother, then why didn’t he become the king?” the boy asked. 

“I suppose he preferred the life of a Maester,” Jon sighed. “He toiled very hard to forge his maester’s chain. Perhaps he saw what the crown had done to his family. Perhaps he thought Aegon would be a better king. Whatever the case, he decided to take the Black and become a member of the Night’s Watch so that he could not be used against his brother one day.” 

“How old was he when you met him?” 

“At least one hundred years old.” 

“That many?!” Aemon exclaimed. 

“That many,” Jon laughed. “He thought he was one of the last Targaryens. He never knew I was a Targaryen and a Stark. He thought your mother was the last Targaryen.  _ A Targaryen alone in the world, _ he told me.  _ Is a terrible thing _ .” 

Maester Aemon had once told Sam that Daenerys needed to be protected. He had been tested three times in his long life and Jon thought that if he had been younger he might have forgone his vows in order to protected Dany. 

“He saw many things, many joys, and many tragedies, too. He saw the ruin of his house and I only wish he could have been alive to witness its rebirth.” 

“As do I,” a voice chimed in from the doorway. 

Jon looked up to find his wife standing at the threshold, a dressing down over her nightshift, with Missandei at her side. 

“Mama!” Aemon exclaimed cheerfully. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” Jon asked, scooting off the bed and striding over to her. 

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Missandei apologized. “But she insisted.” 

“Will both of you stop?” Dany huffed. “I had a child, I’m not made of glass.” 

“Thank you, Missandei. You can leave her with me. I’ll see to it that she makes it back to our chambers in one piece.” 

Jon watched as Missandei inclined her head and left before turning his attention back to his wife. Though she looked tired he would not have guessed that she had given birth just eighteen hours before. Her long silver-blonde hair was braided in a single plait that hung over her shoulder. Her face, though weary, looked fresh and content and as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on her. It was difficult to stay upset with her. 

“Ned woke me and needed to be fed,” Dany explained. “Before I fell back to sleep I wanted to put Rhaenys and Aemon to bed.” 

“I’m afraid you missed Rhae,” Jon said. “She’s been asleep for about an hour.” 

“Papa was telling me about Maester Aemon,” the young prince piped up from the bed. “He said I was named for him.”

“Indeed you you, Aem.” 

Jon walked with Dany over to the bed after she tucked her arm around his and began the slow journey across the short distance. He watched her wince as she settled onto the mattress next to their son and wrapped her arm around his small shoulders, pulling him close to her. 

“Don’t let me interrupt the story,” she said. 

“I was nearly finished telling him about Maester Aemon and how we chose his name,” Jon said. 

“Did you tell him how it was that you made it from Castle Black to Winterfell the night he was born?” 

“No, he didn’t!” Aemon said. “Mama you told me the story about the night I was born.” 

“I know I told you what happened, but ask him how he got there.” 

“Papa,” the boy began, turning to face him. “How did you you know to go to there?” 

Jon chuckled at his son’s words and smiled at Dany over the boy’s head. 

“You know Ghost and I share a very special bond, right?” 

Aemon nodded. 

“Sometimes, I can...see things that Ghost can see. Feel things Ghost can feel.” 

“Like a dream.” 

“Sort of like a dream.” 

Jon did not know how in depth he wanted to be when trying to explain to his four-year-old son what it meant to be a warg. Sometimes he could not wrap his own mind around it. They had not even begun to tell him about what is Uncle Bran was or what he was capable of. Better to save that until he was older. 

“Before you were born, I was at Castle Black,” Jon continued. “We were ready to lay siege upon the Night King after he had attacked the Wall and taken control of your mother’s dragon, Viserion. Ghost stayed at Winterfell. I could not have brought him with me if I tried. He refused to leave your Mama’s side.” 

“Ghost is a proper direwolf,” Aemon said with a yawn. 

“Aye. A terrible storm was raging at Castle Black, one of the worst I’d ever seen. I knew something wasn’t quite right. Ghost was able to show me that your Mama was in labor with you and you were going to be born. I knew I had to be there so I rode Rhaegal through that tempest. I don’t know how we both made it to Winterfell in one piece, let alone alive. I made it just in time to hear your first cries.” 

“And like I told you,” Dany said. “From that moment on the long winter that fell over Westeros began to end.” 

“From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to name you Aemon,” Jon added. “Just like your Mama knew we had to name your brother Ned.” 

“There has never been a King Aemon.” 

“Aemon, First of his name. Like Mama, First of her name and Papa, First of his name.” 

Jon smiled at that, despite being crowned with Dany as King Aegon, Sixth of his name, he never chose to be called by that. The smallfolk had taken to calling him King Jon, First of his name, the White Dragon and although he had never been one for formality, he had rather liked the sound of that. 

“Gods be good, it will be many years until you are called that,” Dany said gently. “For now, it is time for bed, Aem.” 

“Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight Papa,” Aemon said as he snuggled down into his pillow. 

Jon bent down to kiss his son’s silver curls and helped Dany off the bed. 

“It’s time for you to be in bed as well, love.” 

“You’re not going to scold me on our way there, are you?” 

“No, I’m not. I remember what we promised each other the night before we were crowned.” 

“We swore we’d be a mother and a father first, and a king and queen second.” 

“Aye,” Jon nodded. “And I wouldn’t change that for all of Westeros.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my Heirs of the Dragon ficlets are from Dany's perspective so it was nice to be able to share something from Jon's point of view. I hope to write another chapter where Jon bonds more with his daughter, Rhaenys.


	8. Papa's Special Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's Names Day has come and his son Aemon has a surprise for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Father's Day was a few days ago but I didn't get to finish it in time. Since I didn't think they have Father's Day in Westeros I decided to make this about Jon's Names Day instead.

“Ma...ma! Mama!” Aemon babled as Daenerys lifted him from his cradle. He’d be a year old in just over a month and he was already starting to outgrow his first bed. 

“Good morning, my love,” she cooed and kissed his silver-blonde hair. It was starting to form loose ringlets the longer it grew.  _ Just like your Papa’s,  _ she mused. He was hungry, she knew, as she sat down in the rocking chair by the large open window that overlooked the Gullet. It was just before the hour of the nightengale and the sun through the east-facing window was just peeking up over the horizon. Dany sighed as her son suckled at her breast, knowing that soon he would be too old and she would lose the quiet time alone with him. She had turned more than one head when she insisted on nursing him herself. It was not something queens did, she was told, but Daenerys Targaryen was no ordinary woman and she would be no ordinary queen either. 

Within the next few months renovations were expected to be complete on the first phase of the reconstruction of the Red Keep. Soon Maegor’s Holdfast would be ready to house the Queen, her King, and their young prince. In the meantime, Dragonstone still served as a temporary capital for them. 

“Today, is your Papa’s special day,” Dany said to Aemon as he gazed up at her, making little noises as his nursed. His eyes were grey, just like his father’s eyes. He was a true Stark and a true Targaryen. 

_ I don’t want anything special,  _ Jon had grumbled when she brought up the occasion of his Name Day. Of course, he did not want a fuss to be made. He rarely did. Her husband was not one who enjoyed lavish feasts and ceremonies filled with people he did not know paying lip service to him. 

“Papa hates when he has to wear his floppy ears,” Dany said, referring to the term Brown Ben Plumm had used when she was first Queen of Meereen. “Instead you and I will make today special for him.” 

Unbeknownst to Jon, Dany had decided that any matters of state would be put on hold for the entire day. She would receive no one and read no missives or documents that day, a feat she had not even managed at the end of the Great War when she should have been recovering from childbirth and her injuries. 

Despite their day to day activities, Jon and Dany had both agreed that they would make every effort to put Aemon to bed together. Jon remembered his own father doing the same for him when he was young and Dany was only too happy to begin a new tradition within her own family. King and Queen they were to all of Westeros, but the titles that made her heart skip a beat were Mama and Papa. Well...Mama, at the very least. Stubborn little Aemon had yet to say the word Papa. True enough he could make sounds and bable and point, but while he had been calling her Mama every time she appeared before him, he still had yet to call Jon the word Papa. 

“That changes today my little prince,” she whispered into his ear when he had finished nursing. “I know that nothing would make your Papa happier than to hear you call him that. He’ll smile so much little crinkles will form at the corners of his eyes and he’ll laugh just like you do when he blows on your belly.” 

Dany demonstrated just that while she changed him into his clothes for the day, a little outfit Sansa had sewn for him completely with a direwolf embroidered on it. Aemon’s tiny baby laugh filled the nursery and Dany’s heart. It was a sound she never thought she would hear from a child of her own. Jon had changed all of that.  _ Another thing he was right about _ , she thought. 

“I thought I heard our little prince, Your Grace,” Missandei smiled and bowed when she entered the room. 

“Good morning, Missandei,” Dany greeted her closest friend and advisor. “Is everything in order?” 

“Yes, Your Grace. The kitchen has been informed to bring your meals straight to your chambers and everyone has been instructed not to disturb the three of you.” 

“Thank you. Do you think Jon will be surprised?” 

“I do. His Grace did not seem happy when you told him that the two of you would be meeting with Ser Jaime to discuss the training regimen for the future gold cloaks.” 

“He knows I haven’t forgotten his Name Day, but he thinks we’ll be having supper with Lord Tyrion and Ser Jorah.” 

“If there’s anything I can do for Your Graces, please do not hesitate to send for me.” 

“Don’t be silly, Missandei. Enjoy this day for yourself. You and Grey Worm both.” 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Missandei replied, dipping her head and blushing slightly. 

It was already past the hour of the nightengale when Dany had Aemon ready to surprise his father. She worried the Jon would be awake already, but when she left their bedchamber she had been sure to draw the curtains across the window extra tight and no handmaids would be entering to open them. 

“Let’s try one more time, Aem,” she said before she left her son’s nursery. “Can you say  _ Papa _ ?” 

Her son looked at her for a moment. “Mama!” he said pointing. 

“Yes,” Dany sighed. “ _ I’m _ Mama. I need you to say  _ Papa _ .” 

“Ma! Mamamama!” 

“Seven he-,” she nearly cursed, but caught herself and kissed Aemon’s forehead. “Well, at the the very least your Papa will be happy to be spending the day with us.” 

Aemon was quiet as Dany carried him from the nursery to the bedchamber she shared with Jon. It was a short distance and he occupied himself with a carved wooden direwolf that Ser Davos had made for him. She tiptoed into the still darkened room and listened for a moment, smiling to herself when she heard the sound of Jon’s gentle snore coming from the bed. She and Aemon were as quiet as Faceless Men as her bare feet tread over the cool stone floor and she stopped at the foot of the bed. She set Aemon down at the foot of the bed and whispered into his ear. 

“Go find Papa,” she instructed, nudging him towards Jon’s sleeping form. Keeping an eye on him, she backed toward the window to push open the curtain just enough to allow the warm glow of early morning to permeate into the room. 

Aemon crawled up the bed along Jon’s body until he reached his torso, which he climbed up onto and flailed his arms down gleefully, causing the small wooden direwolf to smack Jon square on the chest. 

“Oof!” Jon grunted. “What in the...what are you doing here, little pup.” 

Aemon merely smiled and squealed happily, bouncing up and down on Jon’s stomach. 

“Pa!” he exclaimed. 

“What did you just say?” Jon asked, struggling to sit up, all hints of sleep gone from his voice. He held Aemon up on the air until he laughed and brought him back down so their faces were level. “Who am I?” 

“Pa!” the boy exclaimed again, putting his hands on the sides of his father’s face. “Papa!” 

“Did you two plan this?” 

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Dany said walking back over to their bed and sitting next to him. “But we did practice a little this morning. He still wouldn’t say it for me though.” 

“I was beginning to think he’d never say it, that he would be his Mama’s son, just like his brothers.” 

“Rhaegal likes you.” 

“Aye, he does. But I still think he listens to you more than he listens to me.” 

“Maybe so,” Dany admitted, leaning over to kiss Jon’s cheek. “Happy Name Day. I know you don’t much care for it, but I thought you might enjoy this.” 

“This is just what I needed before meeting with Ser Jaime later today.” 

“There isn’t going to be a meeting with Ser Jaime today.” 

“What?” Jon asked, furrowing his brow. 

“Surprise! The meeting was a ruse to make sure you wouldn’t catch on. You get us to yourself for the entire day. No interruptions. Just the three of us. Breakfast will be brought up shortly. We don’t even have to leave our chambers unless you want to.” 

“You know, I might have to reevaluate my position on my Name Day…” 

“Is that so?” 

“If all of them are this special and I get to spend every one with the two of you? Yes, I think I might,” Jon smiled. 


	9. Dragonriders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon convinces Dany to allow their young daughter, Rhaenys, to fly for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic takes place roughly in 308 AC when Jon and Dany's daughter, Rhaenys, is four years old.

“ _No!”_ Dany said looking up from her desk to where her husband stood in front of her.

“Why not?” he questioned.

“I told you before, she’s still too young.”

“She is not. Aemon was four when he first rode Drogon with you.”

“That’s different.”

“It is not,” Jon tried to reason, placing his palms flat on the desk as he leaned close to her. “And you know it.”

“What if something were to happen to her? She’s so small.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me, my love?”

The glare Jon received from his wife let him know that he had her just where he wanted her. For the past half hour he had been trying in vain to convince her to allow their daughter Rhaenys to fly for the first time upon Rhaegal with him. Dany had been adamant in her dissent. _But I already promised her_ , he wanted to say. Indeed, it was nearly impossible for him to say no to his little girl. Much like her mother, she had him tightly wrapped around her little finger.

Rhaenys had just turned four the previous week and every day since she had implored him to take her flying upon Rhaegal. Her older brother had been telling her tales of what it was like the first time he rode upon Drogon with their Mama when he was four. Rhae never liked feeling left out of anything and although she would never admit it, she wanted to be just like her older brother and just like her mother.

“Mama didn’t ride a dragon until she was much older,” Jon had tried to tell her.

“But Aem did!” his daughter had replied. “Aem’s been riding two whole years. I’m a big girl and now that Ned is here I’m _not_ the baby anymore!”

 _Were you ever a baby?_ Jon wondered. It seemed like only yesterday that they had defeated the Night King and ended the Great War. Now Aemon was six and growing taller with each passing day. Rhaenys was four and despite her dark curly hair Jon thought she looked more and more like her mother. Ned was two, already walking and starting to talk and if the gods were good there would be a fourth little Targaryen gracing the halls of the Red Keep and the Dragon’s Holdfast- formerly Maegor’s Holdfast- by year’s end. They had not made an official announcement yet, not after Dany lost the last one just two months in.

Jon never allowed himself to dream that he would have one child, let alone three beautiful children with a fourth on the way. When his Uncle Benjen had asked him to consider what he might be giving up if he joined the Night’s Watch he did not think he would care about what it might have cost him. He would father no children, which meant that he would father no bastards. That was all a lifetime ago. Before he met Daenerys, before he learned that he had never been a bastard to begin with. Now he could never imagine his life without their boisterous brood.

“You know I trust you,” Dany said pointedly.

“Then let me take her up. Just once or twice around the city and we’ll be back down. I promise I won’t go too high. Unless you want to take her up…”

“You know that I don’t.”

Dany sat back and placed her arms on the armrests of her chair. Jon could tell she was mulling over his request and that he might have took it a bit too far with his last remark.

“You need to ride again,” he said gently.

“And I will. I promise. As soon as this one is safely in the cradle.”

“Dany…”

“You promise not to take her too high?”

“What?” he asked, slightly caught off guard.

“When you take Rhae up, do you promise not to let Rhaegal fly too high?”

“Of course.”

“Then my answer is yes.”

“You’ll come to watch?”

“I don’t know if I have the nerve, but of course I want to watch her fly for the first time.”

XXXXX

Jon held his daughter’s hand as they watched Daenerys climb off of her silver and Aemon hop down from his Dornish Sand Steed, a gift for his sixth Name Day. They had rode together, escorted by Ser Barristan from the Red Keep to the ruins of the Dragonpit. Now that the structure had an open roof Rhaegal and Drogon made it their own lair.

He and Dany had gone together to tell Rhaenys that she could indeed ride with her Papa for the first time. The little girl had been so excited Jon thought she might bounce off of the walls. She barely kept still long enough for Dany to braid her hair.

“Mama will you ride with us?” Rhae had asked as Dany fastened the last braid.

“Oh no, my love,” Dany shook her head, but Jon had noted a lightness in her voice. “I want to be able to see your face when you fly for the first time and that would be hard to do from Drogon’s back. Aemon and I will watch.”

“Were you afraid the first time you flew?”

“You know...the first time I flew I was so afraid that the Sons of the Harpy would destroy everyone that I barely had time to be afraid of flying. It was the most amazing feeling ever, but I was much older than you are.”

“I’m not afraid,” the little girl had said defiantly.

“No,” Dany smiled. “I don’t think you’re afraid of anything are you?”

“No. Just like you and Papa.”

Jon felt his hand being pulled in the direction of Rhaegal and Drogon and smiled. He had never seen a four-year-old so sure of herself as his daughter was. He prayed that someday it would not cause grief for him and Dany. She came from a long line of strong-willed women and seemed to inherit her strength from all of them.

“Come on, Papa! Rhaegal is happy to see us.”

“Be careful, Rhaenys!” Dany called. “Hold on tight with _both_ hands. That goes for you, too, Jon.”

Jon turned around to smile sympathetically at his wife. He guided Rhaenys over to where Rhaegal lay in the pit. When the dragon saw them coming he lifted his head and cocked it to the side, not unlike Ghost would do. Jon remembered the first time he had see a dragon up close when Dany had ridden Drogon back to Dragonstone after defeating the Lannister army and burning the Tarlys alive. He had stood his ground and felt an indescribable connection to the animal. Now he suspected that Drogon  could sense all along that he was a Targaryen.

The children were different, though. They had grown up around the dragons their entire lives, being introduced to them at a young age although they were not permitted to ride them until they were older. That day had already come for Aemon who was introduced to flying on the back of Drogon with his mother. Now it was finally Rhae’s turn. Rhaegal dipped his head low in front of Jon and Rhaenys and when Jon reached out to place his hand upon the dragon’s snout, his daughter did the same.

“I think he knows why you’re here,” Jon said.

“Really, Papa?” the little girl asked.

“Really. Climb up on his wing and over his shoulder. I’ll be right behind you.”

He watched as Rhaenys climbed up Rhaegal just as she was instructed and sat down, instinctively grasping the pointed horn-like scales in front of her with her tiny gloved hands. Jon settled in behind her and placed his arms on either side of her.

“It’s not completely unlike riding a horse, Rhae,” he said. “Make sure your legs are firmly in place and hold on with them, too just like you hold onto your horse.”

“I’m ready.”

“You know what to say? Nice and loud so he can hear you.”

“Yes,” she nodded and waited a few moments. Rhaenys’s head turned towards her mother and from where Dany, Aemon, and Barristan stood Jon could see her wave in encouragement. “Sōves!”

Taking the command, Rhaegal lifted his body from the ground and spread out his green wings. In the sunlight, the hints of bronze in his scales seemed to glisten. He began to move swiftly across the Dragonpit, flapping the wings once, twice, three times before leaping into the air and carrying them aloft.

“Higher!” Rhaenys exclaimed gleefully as the objects and people below them grew smaller and smaller.  

“Not too high,” Jon shouted into her ear, his words half lost with the wind. “We promised Mama that we wouldn’t go to high!”

Jon wished his first flight had been as joyful as his daughter’s seemed to be. He had almost ridden Drogon first, when Dany came to rescue them north of the Wall after the wight hunt, but he was plunged into the icy lake before he could climb on. Instead, he mounted Rhaegal some time later after the Night King had already killed and taken command of Viserion. After learning that Rhaegar was his father, Dany thought it was fitting that he should attempt to ride Rhaegal. It had been a harrowing experience to say the least. Nothing near as blissfully carefree as he felt in that moment soaring high above the capital with his daughter.

Once and then twice they flew over Fleabottom, Aegon’s High Hill and the Red Keep, along the Blackwater Rush where Rhaegal dipped so low that Jon thought for a brief moment they might skim across the top of the water. Then they turned ever so slightly to the northeast, careening over the Tourney Grounds just outside the city walls before flying one last time over Visenya’s Hill and the ruined Great Sept of Baelor before returning to the Dragonpit across the city at the Hill of Rhaenys. Rhaegal descended at Jon’s command and as the dust settled and the whooshing of air from his massive wings died down he could still hear his daughter’s exuberant laughter.

“Can’t we fly more?” she pleaded even while Rhaegal began to lower his shoulder so that she and Jon might climb down.

“We’ll fly again,” he said, taking her hand. “You did wonderfully, Rhae.”

The promise of another flight seemed to appease his daughter who was already running as fast as her small legs could carry her over to where Dany, Aemon, and Ser Barristan awaited.

“I think I’ll have to share you now,” Jon said as he ran his hand over Rhaegal’s warm scales.

Dragons had been bred for war and while some like Balerion and Vhagar outlived their riders, many did not. Jon hoped that while peace and prosperity reigned throughout Westeros, Dany’s two remaining dragons would live to see his children’s children.

“Did you see me, Ser Grandfather?” Jon heard Rhaenys ask gleefully as she skipped over from Dany to where Ser Barristan stood.

“I did, my princess,” he replied, kneeling down in front of her. “You did very well. Your parents must be very proud.”

“Are you proud, too?”

“Always.”

Rhaenys flung her arms around the old knight and hugged him soundly before prancing off to join her mother and brother as they walked back towards their horses.

“She adores you,” Jon said as Barristan rose to his feet.

“I daresay the feeling is mutual, Your Grace. The princess is fond of many. I count myself lucky to be numbered among them.”

“Aye, she has a kind heart, but she has a special fondness reserved just for you, _Ser Grandfather_.”

“There was a time many years ago when I took that name as an insult. But it takes on a much different meaning coming from the princes and princess.”

“Dany told me all about it. She wasn’t sure how’d you’d take it when she suggested the name. It makes me sad that my children will never know my mother or father, or even Dany’s mother.”

“The princess looked like her today.”

“Just today?” Jon asked. “I think she always resembles Daenerys.”

“No, Your Grace. Not the queen,” Ser Barristan clarified. “Your mother.”

“I didn’t know you knew my mother, Ser.”

“Not well, only in passing. But when I saw the joy on the princess’s face today it reminded me of when I saw your mother at the Tourney at Harrenhal. She might be the blood of the dragon, but she also has the wildness of the wolf in her veins as well.”  

“Then may the gods help us all,” Jon smiled as they turned towards their own steeds.

“Which ones?”

“I think the old _and_ the new, just to be safe.”


	10. Love's Labors Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys suffers a terrible loss while on royal progress through her kingdoms and finds comforting words where she least expected them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit sadder and angst-ier than I've written before for this particular fic. I've been wanting to incorporate this character into the story and thought of this chapter in the process. 
> 
> Possible Warning: This chapter deals with miscarriage. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Kristen. You know why.
> 
> -Katie

Daenerys lay on a borrowed bed and wept until her eyes were dry and her cheeks were tear-stained. She had tried to sleep, to follow the Maester’s orders to rest, but every time she closed her eyes she could not help but recall the events of the day. Her mind raced, her body hurt, and her heart ached. She wanted Jon by her side. She tried to keep her mind busy with attempting to figure out how long it would take a raven to fly from Casterly Rock to King’s Landing and how long it would take Rhaegal to make the journey. 

Jaime Lannister, the Warden of the West, had sent his Maester to attend to her after she landed Drogon and nearly collapsed as she dismounted, doubling over in fresh waves of fear and pain. When the Maester left, telling her there was nothing else to be done except to rest Jaime had come in quietly, sending remaining servants away. She was grateful for that.  _ Kingslayer _ , he had once been called when he murdered her father.  _ Queensaver _ , he had since been dubbed after he saved her life in the Battle for the Dawn. She was grateful for that, too and in return she allowed him to renounce his vows as a former Kingsguard and retire to Castley Rock, under the condition that he would be her Warden of the West. 

“Send a raven to Jon,” she had instructed him when she mustered up the courage to find words. 

“What...would you like me to tell him, Your Grace?” 

“Just tell him that he needs to come at once.” 

“Of course. Right away.” 

“Ser Jaime?” 

“Yes, Your Grace?” he had asked from the doorway. 

“When you’ve finished will you come back? I’d rather like some company until he arrives.” 

She was not sure what possessed her to ask such of thing of a man she had spent nearly her entire life hating, but those were different times. Westeros was a much different place. Growing up, Dany only knew what Viserys had told her about the Kingslayer. She did not know until much later that Jaime’s actions had likely saved nearly every person in King’s Landing. That was an inconvenient truth that did not fit her brother’s villainous narrative. Nor did she know about the ways in which Ser Jaime had served her mother. She would not find that out until they were both freezing half to death in the far reaches of the North. 

_ Knock...knock...knock.  _

“Come in,” she said over her shoulder and watched as Ser Jaime strode uneasily back into the chamber. 

“You asked for me to return, Your Grace,” he replied. 

“I did.” Dany began to push herself up in the bed. The pain had left her body, leaving it feeling nothing but heavy, lethargic, and empty. Jaime began to move towards the bed to help her up but she stopped him with a wave of her hand. “I can sit.” 

“Right. My apologies. What else can I do for you?”

“You can tell me how things are in the Westerlands.” 

“Your Grace, surely that can wait until-.” 

“Until what, Ser Jaime?” Dany challenged. 

“I assumed you’d want to rest.” 

“I would like to keep my mind occupied until the king arrives. So sit and tell me about the Westerlands, please” 

“Very well,” Jaime shrugged and sat in a chair a yard or more from the bed. “Slowly but surely we’ve begun mining again at Golden Tooth.” 

Over the next half of an hour Jaime recounted to Dany everything she asked about the Western most reaches of her kingdom. 

“And you still have no plans to marry?” 

“I think you know my feelings about that.” 

Dany did indeed know that Jaime Lannister had no intentions of marrying, although he had been released from his vows as a sworn Kingsguard. 

“And what am I to do about Casterly Rock?” she asked. “What will happen after-”

“After I’m dead you mean?” Jaime interjected. “Apologies, Your Grace. You can do as you like. Give it to my brother, though I doubt your Hand will have time to be Warden of the West as well. Give it to anyone you like.” 

“Your friend...Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. He had children now doesn’t he?” 

“He does. A daughter and a baby boy.” 

“Something to consider then, when the time comes,” Dany suggest and Jaime nodded. “You lost three children as well?” 

“I’m sorry,” she added as Jaime sat in stunned silence. “That was-.” 

“No, it’s alright,” he replied. “No one...no one ever mentions them. At least, not to me. I suppose no one quite knows how to address the idea of me being their father. They equate them with  _ her _ , but they were so much more, at least Tommen and Myrcella were. They were good. In different circumstances he could have been a good king, so much better than me or his mother.” 

“We’re not our parents,” Dany said softly. “Isn’t that the lesson? Although I think the verdict is still out on you.” 

“That’s kind, Your Grace, but I have no illusions about what awaits me in the next life.” 

“Fortunately for us, the gods reserve that judgment for themselves and not to us mortal men.” 

“I thought it was said you don’t adhere to any of the gods, old or new.” 

“I don’t adhere to any  _ one _ god. I distrust religion made by men, but I cannot ignore events that have happened in my life and the lives of those I love.” 

“After the events of the past decade I have no idea what to believe and what not to believe anymore.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Dany spoke again. 

“When I was little I would have given anything to know my mother. I used to beg Viserys for story after story about her. I wanted to be like her. Now I suppose I am. She lost numerous babes, or so I’m told.” 

Jaime nodded. “She was stronger than many give her credit for.” 

“What else was she like? I’ve learned over the years that Viserys rarely told me the truth about our family. I would hear from you.” 

“Kind,” Jaime answered thoughtfully. “In a world where everything was going to shit, she was kind. She had no reason to be. Fate dealt her a cruel hand and she endured it all with a grace and a kindness I have never seen. Some would view kindness as a weakness, a flaw. It’s quite the opposite really. Your mother looked pure evil in the face daily and chose to not let it consume her. 

“I don’t know you as well as some of your advisors do, Your Grace, but I know that you’ve endured things that no one should have to and you’re still good. I spent enough time with your mother to know that you are very much like her.” 

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” Dany said sincerely as tears welled up in her eyes. “That means the world to me.” 

“You’re welcome, Your Grace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should wait on the King. I’m certain he will be here soon.” 

XXXXX

Later than night, Dany lay with her head on Jon’s chest in the borrowed bed at Casterly Rock. Her arms were wrapped as tightly around him as his were around her and her eyes were closed to hold back the torrent of tears that threatened to fall. 

As he held her, she told him everything. About how the cramping and pain began not long after she departed Highgarden, how it had been so intense at one point that she had doubled over on Drogon and feared she might lost her grip and her footing. About how, when she dismounted at Casterly Rock, her thighs were slick with blood and she had nearly collapsed into the arms of Jaime Lannister as he came out to greet her. About how the pain had subsided, but what was left in its place was a feeling of loss, disappointment, longing, and profound emptiness. 

“I’m so sorry, Jon. I should have sent a raven sooner, when I found out while in Meereen. I just wanted to surprise you.” 

“Shhhh now, it’s alright.” 

“But what if we can’t have another?” 

“What if we can’t? We have three beautiful children already.” 

“But-” 

“I didn’t marry you because we found out you were with child Daenerys,” Jon said. “I didn’t marry you because of your dragons. I married you because I love you. Because there’s not another woman in the entire world who is like you. You’re not like everyone else. Melissandre brought me back, but you made me feel alive again. I said it before. Do you remember? You’ve given me more than I could have ever imagined. If we have more, we have more. It doesn’t change how much I love you. I don’t think anything could.” 

“You’re a giant among men, Jon. I don’t know how I ever could have told Tyrion you were too little for me.” 

“You said what now?” 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time,” Dany sighed, nuzzling into him further and closing her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's come to my attention that not everyone might know that I also have a Tumblr (or what my url is on Tumblr) so you can find me there if you look for ktwrites.


	11. Stolen Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They long for more than just stolen moments, but some secrets are better kept...at least for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to thank everyone who has been reading this fic and a reminder that I update the first chapter every time I post a new chapter. Chapter 1 is our timeline since the chapters are not necessarily written chronologically. 
> 
> A HUGE thank you to Sharon and Jenny who have been listening to me ramble on about this chapter for some time now.

 

**324 AC**

The caves of Dragonstone were deep and dark, but he had a torch and they had been inside them dozens upon dozens of times. Each time, the cavernous enormity amazed her just as it had the very first time they had explored it together. It was a special place to them. They could be alone there, away from even the Queensguard who seemed to follow them about like pups.

“No matter how many times I come here these drawings leave me in awe each time,” she said, taking the torch from him to gaze more closely at a particular drawing. “What do you suppose they used to make these? Not the obsidian, surely.”

He took the opportunity and the sputtering of the torchlight to steal a glance at her. In the firelight, her pale, silver-blonde tendrils looked more like molten gold and her fair skin glowed as if from within. Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms, possibly even the known world.

“This one’s my favorite,” he said. Taking the torch back from her, he motioned to one on the far side of the cavern. While she preferred the more symbolic designs, the swirls and spirals, he preferred the runes depicting the children of the forest and the First Men  working together to defeat the White Walkers.

“You’ve always liked that one,” she observed coming to stand at his side. Her head dipped down to rest on his shoulder, her hand slipping into his own.

“Aye,” he nodded. “I reckon I always have.”

“What do you think the Targaryens were doing then?”

“I don’t know, fucking sheep in Valyria?”

“You’re terrible!” she exclaimed, but laughed just the same. “They were not.”

“It’s hard to guess what they might have been doing. So much of that was lost with the Doom. We could ask Bran but…”

“You know how he is now. Unless it was of great importance, he wouldn’t tell us. Unless the fate of Westeros depended upon it.”

“And maybe that’s for the best,” he began.

“Really?”

“Really. I care little and less about the past of House Targaryen. I care much more about its future, the future of all of the great houses.”

“That’s very diplomatic of you.”

“What’s the saying? _If I look back I am lost_.”

She nodded. “We should probably start to head back.”

Even in the darkness of the cave, she could tell that he was pulling a face.

“Oh stop brooding,” she said, nudging him. “Either we head back now, or they’ll start looking for us and we lose another one of our hiding places.”

XXXXX

It was a rare afternoon that they were left to their own devices. Spring was on the verge of summer and the air was bordering on stifling in the capital. It was for that very reason they had ridden out through the gates, past the tourney grounds and into the fields of wildflowers. They rode until they were hot and breathless and then dismounted under the shade of a tree next to a small stream that was an offshoot of the Blackwater.

They gorged themselves on the food she had packed in a leather satchel for them. A simple, but filling meal of bread, cheese, and fruit all washed down with a flagon of wine. When they had finished he claimed to be so full and pulled his leather doublet off, rolling up the sleeves of his white linen shirt.

“It’s too damn hot,” he complained, dropping his head onto her lap.

“Summer isn’t even here yet and you’re already complaining about the heat,” she tsked, and ran the tips of her fingers across his temple and into his dark hair. “You’re such a bloody Stark.”

“I can’t help it. I’d rather be in the North right now. It doesn’t get nearly as hot at Winterfell, even in the summer. You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but King’s Landing in the summer,” she agreed. “The city reeks in the heat. Perhaps we could spend the summer at Dragonstone again. The breezes off the sea are so much more pleasant.”

“Maybe it could be arranged...or maybe Sansa would welcome us to Winterfell. The boys would be excited to see us.”

“Perhaps. I just feel as though I’ll suffocate if I stay in King’s Landing all summer.”

He sat up then and kissed her cheek.

“At least we’ll suffocate together,” he said cheerfully. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side.

“What are you doing?” she asked quizzically.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Going for a swim. You should join me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe I’m afraid I won’t be able to resist you if I do.”

“You say that like it would be a bad thing.”

“Not out here. Not where anyone might wander upon us.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, peeling off his trousers and dropping them next to his shirt.

She watched his lean form as he descended into the water, admiring the taut muscles of his shoulders, back, and bottom. A smile played on her lips when she saw him tense up upon dipping his toes into the cooler and refreshing waters of the stream. She had half a mind to throw caution to the wind and join him, to pretend that they were just two young lovers out for a picnic to escape the heat of the day, but she knew it would be folly. Still, as she watched him swim back and forth in the stream she could not help but imagine lying under him in the grass as his hard body moved over hers. She wished that it was her fingers and not just the cool water caressing the hard lines of his back.

_What harm is there in an afternoon swim?_ she thought, draining the wine from her cup and licking the sweet red liquid from her lips. They had not seen anyone on their way, nor had they seen a single person the entire time they had been there. Her hair was braided and pinned up on top of her head. If she kept her head above water no one would be the wiser when they returned. Even if someone _did_ notice, who would dare say anything about it?

“Alright,” she conceded, standing up and starting to unlace her dress.

“Yes!” he shouted a reply from the water.

“But I’m warning you, you’d better not dunk me under or there’ll be seven hells to pay.”

XXXXX

They were seated across the table from one another at the feast. Close, but far enough away to make conversation impossible without shouting. She was sitting next to Tyrion, half listening to him tell the same joke about the honeycomb and the jackass to the visiting dignitaries from Braavos. Their eyes met while he took another swig of honeyed ale. It was his fourth glass, not that she was counting. She knew how much he hated such events and could almost guarantee that by the time the singers and mummers began their performance, he would find a chance to slip away from his spot at the table. If she did not think her absence would be noticed, she would gladly follow him.

He winked at her then and tossed another piece of dried fruit into his mouth, casually leaning to the side and resting his weight on the arm of his chair. Although he glanced around the hall, observing other seating around the long table, he only had eyes for her.

XXXXX

“It’s too hot,” she complained, breaking the comfortable silence. It was late, sometime past the hour of the wolf.

They were lying on the bed in her chambers, willing a breeze to blow through the open window and cut through the stale air of summer that blanketed all of King’s Landing like a pall.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he replied, opening his eyes and glancing sideways at her. She was wearing the very lightest silk robe that she owned open, so that the fabric only covered her breasts. Had it not been for the heat, he would have been lying with his head nestled between her them. As it was, they lay on the bed side by side, an arm’s length between their bodies.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“If you want me to go, I’ll go. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, reaching an arm out to him. “Of course I want you here.”

Her movements caused her robe to fall away from her body slightly, revealing the shape of one of her firm, round breasts in the candlelight. He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips. He rolled onto his side and pressed a kiss to her forearm, over the curve of her shoulder, across the column of her neck, along her jaw, and finally to the very corner of her plump lips.

“What else do you want, Alysanne?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

“Just you,” she heard herself say as his hand dipped down to move the robe away from her legs and brushed her inner thigh and then her center. Her head lulled to the side and rested against his shoulder.

“I take it that’s alright?” he asked and she only nodded in reply and shifted against his hand slightly. She reached up to thread her fingers through his black hair, keeping their faces close to one another.

“Shhh,” Alysanne murmured.

Without a word she turned them, using his arms to steady herself as she straddled his hips. She let her robe slide off of her shoulders and fall onto the bed next to him. He smiled up at her, a pleased hunger shining in his eyes as they danced over her perfect body and let her push his shoulders down onto the pillows. They moved seamlessly, not a sound passing between them as she unlaced his trousers and pushed them down, causing his hard cock to spring free.

Alyssane raised herself up and sank down onto him in one, fluid motion. A laugh caught in the back of her throat and turned into a moan when she heard him  hiss through his teeth beneath her. His strong hands were on her hips as he helped her move up and down, guiding them into a rhythm.

“Mmm Ned,” she moaned, and he reached up to cover her mouth with his hand, urging her to keep quiet.

She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to themselves as she rode him, driving them both over the edge. In his moment of ecstasy, he had joined their hands together and brought both of her hands to his lips and kissed them before dropping his head against the pillow.

“I should go, Alys” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“Not just yet,” she shook her head. Her legs were still weak and a little unsteady as she settled herself next to him, tucking her head in the crook of his neck.

“I thought you were too warm.”

“Some things are worth enduring the heat for.”

“Aye, some things are. _This_ is, my love.”

“I wish you could stay,” she whispers, tracing patterns across his chest.

“We can’t risk it,” Ned replied. “Not just yet.”

“This isn’t wrong. I refuse to believe that. I love you. You know me better than _anyone_ and we’re Targaryens. This is in our blood. I’m tired of only having stolen moments.”

“Somehow we’ll tell Mother and Father, when the time is _right_. They might be more accepting of it than the rest of Westeros. We just need to bide our time and keep this to ourselves.”

“And what if, in the meantime, they make plans for some dynastic marriages like they did for Aemon and Rhaenys?” Alys asked her brother. “What then?”

“They’re both happy enough. I won’t let that happen to us though. You have my word. I’d kill any man who tries to lay a hand on you.”

“I love you.”

“And I, you,” he breathed, his voice laced with a calm sincerity as if he was uttering a solemn vow.

“Stay.”

“Very well. Just a few more moments, but then I have to go.”

“Just a few more moments,” Alys agreed before her eyelids grew too heavy and she drifted off to sleep.


	12. Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Rhaenys is to marry Little Sam, Alys sneaks into her chambers to spend one last night with her older sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the incomparable Allegra! She's always been so supportive of this fic and I've been working on the idea for this chapter for well over a month now. A couple of weeks or so the stars aligned and it started coming together.

Alysanne shifted the weight of the heavy book in her arms. It was late and despite the excitement and anticipation for the day to come, the corridors of the Red Keep were quiet and empty, aside for a few guards. She did her best to remain in the shadows as she made her way out of the library and towards her destination in the Dragon’s Holdfast just past her own rooms. Her mother and father would not be pleased with her if they knew she was awake and creeping through the halls of the castle alone, but she was thirteen and no longer a babe, despite being the youngest in her family. 

“Princess?” a questioning, yet gently voice called from behind her, but Alys jumped just the same. 

“Luc!” she gasped. “You scared me half to death.” 

“My apologies. I have the night watch and when I saw you leave the library I thought I’d follow. There are many guests here this night. May I escort you somewhere?” 

_ Kind Luc _ , Alys thought.  _ The new white cloak suits him so well. He’s never looked more like Ser Grandfather. _ The memory of Ser Barristan still stung when Alys thought about him. He had passed no more that half a year ago, and after a month-long period of mourning, Daenerys had elevated Luc to the rank of Queensguard. He was not so young as Jaime Lannister was when he was made a Kingsguard, but he was only eighteen. At Barristan’s request, he had been educated in King’s Landing beside Aemon, Rhaenys, Ned, Alys, and Little Sam. 

“You won’t tell anyone where I was going?” 

“On my honor, I would not. I give you my word.” 

Alys looked around to make sure no one else was about the hallway. “I’m going to my sister’s rooms.” 

“Why does that need to be a secret?” Luc chuckled as they began to walk down the corridor again until he saw how serious Alys still looked. “She’s your sister.” 

“Mother would tell me she needs her rest before the wedding tomorrow. It will be a very long day.” 

“Ah, yes. So it will be.” 

“But my sister is leaving me and this will be the last night we have together to be just sisters. Tomorrow she’ll be the Lady of Horn Hill and married to the Warden of the South.” 

“She will be missed by many here, my princess. But I suppose it is not fair that we should keep her all to ourselves. The people of the Reach will be lucky to have her.” 

Alys knew Luc was right, but it did not make the thought of having to say farewell to her sister any easier. They had always been close, despite the four year age gap between them. When their mother was away tending to matters throughout the realm, Rhaenys was there for Alys. When her monthly courses started and Daenerys was in Meereen, Rhaenys was there for her. When Aemon picked on Alys for not being able to keep up or run as fast while they played games together, Rhaenys was there for her- and Ned, too. Nothing would be the same for Alys without her older sister close by. 

“Thank you,” she said, turning towards Luc when they reached the door to Rhaenys’s chambers. 

“Would you like me to stay? Keep an eye out for you?” he offered, seemingly all too happy to be her accomplice, but Alys shook her head. 

“No, that’s not necessary. Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be and I’m sure you’ve got more important things to worry about.” 

“Aye, I think you might be right. Goodnight, my princess and goodnight to your sister as well.” 

The door to Rhaenys’s outer chambers was open but none of her ladies were about. Alys tiptoed inside and quietly latched the door behind her. She walked to the door to the bedchamber and rapped softly, bowing her head while she waited, hoping that she had knocked loud enough for Rhaenys to hear if she was still awake, yet quiet enough to not disturb her if she was already asleep. A moment passed and the door had not opened. Dejected, Alys turned to walk away when suddenly the door creaked open behind her. 

“Alys?” her older sister asked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Did I wake you?” 

“No, no. I thought I heard someone knock, but I wasn’t sure. I can’t sleep and I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Why are you awake?” 

“I couldn’t sleep either. I thought...we could have one more night together. Like when we were little.” 

“Only if that’s the  _ Jade Compendium _ in your hands there.” 

“What else would it be?” Alys asked, holding the familiar book up for her sister to see. 

Rhaenys turned then and led her sister into her bedchamber. They climbed up onto either side of the bed and settled in, Alys setting the  _ Jade Compendium _ between them.

“You’ll be going to Horn Hill and you’ll live a new life with Sam and forget all about us.” 

“Don’t be silly. I could never forget my sister. There will be plenty of things to come back for. And we’ll write to each other. You’ll still have Ned to keep you company. Don’t worry.” 

“Until Ned leaves me someday, too.” 

“Maybe you’ll be the one to leave. Maybe you will fall in love with a handsome young man who makes you happy just as I have done and you’ll go live in his castle and be his lady.” 

“I don’t want to be someone’s lady. I love King’s Landing. I love our home. I don’t want to leave it.” 

“Alys, you’re so young still. I know, I know. You’re thirteen, but there is so much about the world that you don’t know yet. Don’t be in a rush to learn it all at once. The world can be harsh and it can be cruel, but there are beautiful and brilliant moments mixed into it.” 

Rhae reached over to her bedside table and took a goblet of wine into her hand. 

“Are you nervous?” Alys asked. 

“I’m ready to marry Sam,” Rhaenys replied. “He’s so sweet and kind. I know he’ll be a good husband and now Mother has made him Warden of the South. We’ll be happy together. I love him.” 

“I know you do. But you didn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m terrified,” Rhae admitted, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t know how to be a wife or how to be the Lady of Horn Hill.” 

“You do. You just don’t know it. We’ve spent years watching Mother rule. You don’t think that will help you? Are you scared about  _ being with _ Sam?” 

“Alys! You’re just a girl what do you know of such things?” 

“I’m thirteen,” Alysanne replied defiantly. “Mother was thirteen when she married the first time and I do know  _ some _ things.” 

“I’m not scared about being with Sam.”

“Really? Jeyne said it will hurt the first time.” 

“Yes…” Rhaenys replied, taking another sip of wine. She did know something about that. “So I’ve heard...apparently.” 

“It’s just going to be strange not seeing you every day,” Alys continued, oblivious to her sister’s elusive response. 

“You will come visit me at Horn Hill and I’m sure we’ll come to King’s Landing throughout the year as well.” 

“It won’t be the same.” 

“I know, but this is the price we must pay. We have been entrusted with responsibility.” 

“Aemon and Ned do not have to leave home though.” 

“No,” Rhaenys smiled. “That is what makes women stronger than men.  _ We _ are the ones asked to leave our homes, to leave everything we’ve known and build a home somewhere else.” 

“Will you write to me?” Alys asked. 

“Of course I will.” 

“And you won’t forget me?” When you have a family of your own, I mean?” 

“As if I could ever forget my sister. Don’t be so foolish.” 

Alys believed her sister, or at least she wanted to. Aemon had been married and living on Dragonstone with his beautiful young wife, Leona, and now they were expecting their first child. They saw him every time their mother’s small council met, but it would not be the same for Rhaenys. She was not the Princess of Dragonstone, or the heir to the Iron Throne. Her future was no longer tied to their parents. Instead, Alys thought of her father’s sisters. Her Aunt Sansa far away in Winterfell as Warden of the North and her Aunt Arya to the south of King’s Landing at Storm’s End. They saw one another but once or twice a year. 

_ Horn Hill is not so far from King’s Landing, _ she told herself.  _ And you and Rhae have dragons.  _

All of the children were dragonriders. Aemon had learned to fly upon Drogon, as did Alys. Rhaenys had flown upon Rhaegal with her father and Ned had followed suit, taken by the dragon’s green coloring.    
  
“Shall we read a story?” Rhae asked, picking up the  _ Jade Compendium _ . “Which should we read?” 

“Read the one about the Amethyst Empress.” 

“You know that one by heart.” 

“We know  _ all _ of them by heart,” Alys said. “Please.” 

Rhaenys handed the cup of wine to her sister and opened the large tome. Alys brought the cup up to her lips, glancing at Rhae out of the corner of her eye before taking a sip of the sweet Dornish red. She was permitted to have a glass of wine when she supped with her parents, but not at other times. Still, this was a special occasion. 

By the time Rhaenys had finished reading, Alys had finished the wine and her head felt light, her cheeks warm, and her eyelids grew heavy. 

“Rhae, what if I don’t find someone who loves me the way Sam loves you?” she asked, head head resting on Rhaenys’s shoulder. 

“Oh you will. I have no doubt about that.” 

“But what if I can’t marry him? What if he’s low-born? Our family is filled with tales of princesses who were not allowed to marry their loves. Naerys, Daenerys who went to Dorne...I’ve read Yandel’s  _ World of Ice and Fire. _ They were made to marry men they didn’t love.” 

“Times are different, sweet sister. Mother and Father are different.” 

“We can’t all be as lucky as you. Not everyone grows up with the man they will marry.” 

As Maester Samwell was the Maester of the Red Keep, his adopted son, Little Sam, and his wife, Gilly, had all lived there as well. Maester Sam had set up a school of sorts for the children of the Royal family and Jon and Daenerys had invited children of those in service to them at the Red Keep to learn there as well. Gerold Lannister, son of Tyrion, and Luc Selmyhad been educated alongside Aemon, Rhaenys, Ned, and Alys. 

“Perhaps not, Alys, but there is a young man somewhere in Westeros who will look at you like you set the stars in the night sky. And when you find him, hold on to him and never let him go.” 

“Promise?” 

“Jemot kivio ñuhe tepan,” Rhaenys nodded. 

“Oh!” Alys exclaimed, suddenly sitting upright. “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.” 

Alys reached into the hidden pocket of her robe and pulled out a small velvet pouch, handing it to Rhaenys. 

“What is this?”

“Open it.” 

Untying the ribbon on the pouch, Rhaenys opened it and peeked inside before shaking the contents into her hand. Out of the pouch fell a silver locket on a delicate chain. She smoothed her thumb over the words engraved on the outside of the small oval locket. 

“ _ Mandia, _ ” she read aloud in High Valyrian. “Sister.” 

“ _ Older _ sister, to be specific,” Alys said. “I had one made for me as well that says  _ haedar _ .” 

“Little sister.” 

“ _ Younger _ sister. There’s a message I wrote on a small slip of paper inside. Read it later, when you need it.” 

“Thank you, Alys. No matter what changes, you’ll always be my  _ little _ sister. Nothing will change that, not ever.” 

XXXXX

Rhaenys sat alone in her solar at Horn Hill. They had arrived yesterday and the servants had set about unpacking her belongings. She had not cried when they rode out of the Red Keep, nor when the passed through the gates of King’s Landing, but now that she was alone, she felt on the verge of tears. It was then that she remembered the locket Alys had given her. Finding the small box of jewelry on her vanity, she took out the velvet pouch and fished for the locket. She opened it and unfurled the small piece of paper. 

_ If I look back, I am lost.  _

A small smile formed on Rhae’s lips. Leave it to her little sister to quote their mother and tell her exactly what she needed to hear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jemot kivio ñuhe tepan translates to “I give you my word” in High Valyrian.


End file.
